


Hi Jim

by U848587



Series: Fate doesn't care for Self Inserts [1]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: M/M, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-18 20:51:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12395988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/U848587/pseuds/U848587
Summary: Waking up in the body of Oswald Cobblepot is really confusing but figuring out how FATE is still driving the plot is a bit more confusing.





	1. I am Oswald Cobbleptot

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry I am on a Gotham Kick/Marathon. The muses just keep falling into my lap. This one because I read an Oswald Time Travel and yeah...If you want it take it, I need more Gotham Fics to read **sobbing**

_Oswald_ had no Idea what he drank last night but it must have been some good stuff to leave him this disoriented upon waking and...who was _Oswald_? He reached up to rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he tried to think straight, and took note that he was wearing pajamas, like a full set of silky pajamas. Who wears matching silky pajama top and bottoms to bed? Not **him**. **He** didn't. _Oswald_ did.

"What the...hell?" He wondered. He yanked the covers off, letting them lay in a messy pile, sliding his feet to the floor he stood. That is he tried to stand, but instead, found himself promptly meeting the floor. Was he still drunk? But that didn't feel like the kind of hangover weakness in the knees type of thing more of a 'been stuck in a hospital bed for a while thing'.  Pushing himself up, he crawled to a beat up dresser that had seen better days but was still well cared for somehow, gripping the top he pulled himself back up. 

Fear gripped him. Did he really want to look into the mirror? No...no he didn't, he never used a mirror anyway, why did he need to now? **He** was obviously... **His** name was...was... _Oswald_?

"No...No my name is not...My name is....is," He trailed off looking up. Blue eyes flecked with green stared back at him, a man with messy bed head, skin pale enough to show off a multitude of cute freckles splattered over his cheeks and nose, and a very prominent nose at that; just the slightest bit long and narrow...jeez it would suck to get his nose broken. 

But the face wasn't his.

It was _Oswald Cobblepot's_ face, and his soul staring out from his eyes.

"Just a dream...its just a dream...a very drunk dream..." a very realistic drunk dream he thought, when his bladder began to inform him that he really needed to use the bathroom soon. 

_The Bathroom was right across from his room, they were low on toilet paper that last time he'd gone, toilet paper was expensive 2$, but it would last-he would need to find an odd job, he'd heard that there was one at Fish Mooney's Night Club-_

"Argh!" He growled, fisting his hair. _Oswald's_... **his**...their hair. This was a really weird nightmarish dream, with Oswald's thoughts invading his own. His memories ramming themselves against his skull.

The bedroom door creaked open, he turned to watch an old fashionably dress woman entering... _Mother_... **Gertrude Kabelput**...why did she have to change Oswald's name to Cobblepot, just to make it sound more American really, Kabelput was way more interesting. 

_The kids made fun of me, changing my last name didn't help, the bullies didn't care about his last name. They just liked to taunt him about his dead father, they made fun of the way he talked, the way he looked, the way he dressed and smelled. They called him a Penguin. He hated that nickname, but it followed him to every job he went to. He couldn't escape it. But they would see, he was going to be someone some day-_

"Oswald! Oh, my baby boy, he is awake. I was in such a freight when you took ill, your fever just would not go down," Gertrude....Mother, simpered, placing a tray of breakfast down on his bed, and coming over to him. Her hands reached out to cup his face, a look of pure Motherly love about her, "auch'," she made some odd growling sound in her throat,"You should not be out of bed, Oswald, your still sick I can see it," 

"M..Mother," He stammered. _Oswald needed to tell her to stop coddling him, he was a man, he was thirty one years old. He could take care of himself._  "It's just a minor headache now, I'll be fine. Besides, I need to go to Fish's Night club and see about that job opportunity. You know, Bills don't pay themselves." 

She seemed to buy it, humming and hawing under her breathe as she walked about the room, even stopping to fix his sheets, before finally leaving. 

How spoiled was _he_?

He glanced around the room, trying to process exactly what was going on, telling himself this was a dream. A very vivid dream, and holy crap he really needed to take a piss-if he went to the bathroom that would scare him awake, wouldn't it? Or would he wet the bed sheets (assuming he was even sleeping on a bed)? Deciding he didn't care to piss on Oswald's bedroom floor, he stumbled as dignified as he could out of the room and to the bathroom that his memories had shown him.


	2. The Real Gotham

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did it really matter what he did since this was all just a dream?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italics are emphasis put on anything Oswald Cobblepot based.   
> Bold are emphasis put on anything SI based.

Wearing a white button down dress shirt and plain black slacks, _Oswald_ stepped out of the apartment complex and onto the streets of Gotham, thankful that it was a rare warm day but he'd brought an umbrella along just in case. 

_He was completely under-dressed, he needed to go back and get his suit jacket, he was a proper gentleman._

Glaring around he ignored _his_ thoughts and focused on **his** thoughts. Like how he still couldn't remember his name only Oswald's and when he tried to recall his Mother's name he only saw Gertrude.  _He was an only child, his father had died when he was young, they had always lived in the apartment complex even though he didn't know how his mother could afford it._ "Focus." He told himself, **this is just a dream, a really weird dream that doesn't want you to wake up, an Inception dream.**

So he was dreaming that he was Oswald Cobblepot AKA The Penguin, the future Kingpin of Gotham, pre-netflix-series it seemed if Robin Taylor's face and seeing Carol Kane was anything to go by. He wondered briefly if they would find it weird of him asking them for their autographs? Five foot six was also a respectful height for a man, average, not too tall where he would be tripping over the longer stride and not too short to need a stepping stool to reach upper cabinets. 

Did he always think like this? He couldn't remember exactly who he was, just that he knew he wasn't Oswald and this place was fictional. 

So, what do you do when you're awake in a dream?

Did he follow the plot and check out Fish's night club and get a job there or did he do...whatever he wanted in dreamland? 

So did **Oswald** want to be the Good Guy or the Bad Guy?

Both sounded good.

So the Wayne's had to die, he couldn't interfere there--kicks off the whole series, all of his chaotic future knowledge would be ruined even more then his own mettle-ling. He couldn't see himself bowing to Fish, or betraying her even if he did end up becoming her Umbrella boy-He liked his knee, and his limp free walk, and he did not fancy a swim in the freezing cold Gotham River.

He began walking as he looked around trying to come up with a plan. Where to start, where to start....was that a crime scene?

GCPD patrol cars lined one side of the street, thankfully their drivers were smart enough to turn the flashing strobe lights off, and yellow caution tape marked the perimeter. Detective Bullock and Gordon were walking out of the building, loudly discussing the possibility that it was a debt collection gone wrong. Edward Nygma trailed behind them jotting things down in his notebook.

Oswald smiled. 

"-run prints, and we'll get our guy," Harvey was saying.

"What if it wasn't a criminal, though?" Gordon was asking.

"practically everyone in Gotham is a criminal Jim," Harvey snarked back.

"Hey, Detective," Edward smiled, looking up."What's black and white, and red all over?"

"Really, Nygma, not now." Harvey looked at him, sighing.

Edward took a deep breath, the vaguest look of disappointment on his face. "It's a-," 

"Newspaper." Oswald Interrupted, chuckling slightly,"Good one," He remembered that simple Riddle-the one he had said right before he bludgeoned officer Pygmy to death with a crowbar in an attempt to frame Gordon. There was a hot dog stand shortly down the street from the crime scene, he wondered how amazing Gotham Dogs tasted. So he popped his umbrella open and made his way over as it lightly began to drizzle. How convenient.

"Who are you?" Jim Gordon asked.

Amused and slightly annoyed at the rude question, he was obviously just a passing citizen of Gotham who just happened to answer Nygma's riddle, "A Criminal," he guffawed. Harvey chuckled with him, opening his car door, pointing at Oswald.

"See, that guy gets it," Harvey said. Jim frowned, watching Oswald walk pass the crime scene. 

Was he the guy who had killed the druggie upstairs, and was watching them for kicks and giggles? He seemed like the type. The man's hair was fluffed up in a spiky Mohawk, it made his half dressed business attire seem more aggressive somehow. His infuriating smirk and knowing eyes rubbed him the wrong way, as he got further and further away from the crime scene obviously intending to order some fast food from the food stalls that seemed to be stationed on every street, his eyes were drawn down the man's lithe back and watched the sway of his ass. It was a really nice ass.

"Got something to tell me, partner? Thought you had a fiance, but I won't judge if that's just a cover story," Jim jerked around and stared at Harvey startled. 

"What? No!" he jerked the car door open and took his seat, slamming the door and pushing his back into the seat. Buckling in, his eyes once again took in the street, and watching the man cock his hip out as he listened to the street vendor.

 

 


	3. Everyone Starts Somewhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oswald takes his first step to screw with the plot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is basically writing itself bit by bit everyday, its half serious half crack, I hope readers are enjoying this funny twist I made. Oh and Fate Series, for when I want to branch out my SI's. I've always wanted to do one where an SI had jumped through several verse's and keeps accumulating power. 
> 
> also random names are made up! they are not real people.

Edward Nygma was awkward. He knew he was Awkward, he tried to fit in, but all of his attempts just made him stand out so much more. He didn't understand what he was doing wrong. He loved riddles, Riddles were great conversation starters, but no one ever wanted to answer his riddles.

That man did.

He hadn't hesitated to think, he just knew the answer, he wondered who the man was. This 'criminal'. Would he be in GCPD's file, or was it a joking answer like Detective Bullock said. Jim Gordon was twisting himself into knots trying to tie the man to the crime, determined that it was not a coincidence that he had been there at all. Edward wouldn't know, he just knew that the man had answered his riddle and he wanted to ask the man another one.

Taking the steps up to the Detectives desks and Captain Essen's office, and wasn't that an odd way to design a building, he handed Bullock the case files.

"Finger Print analysis says that, your murderer is Jules's Grant," Edward told him. "Jim leaned over to get a look at the mugshot. It was not that man's face, Jim frowned.

"So, went in to rob the place, got spooked when he saw the owner and killed him. Shocked that he killed a man, he was scatter brained enough to touch everything and barely steal anything." Harvey said, handing the file over to Gordon. Edward liked Gordon, he was nice to him, or at least nicer then most.

"Bullock, Gordon!" Alvarez called for them. They turned to look down into the bullpen. Edward made a happy humming sound when he saw that man. Alvarez pointed up at them, the man smiled and nodded, obviously thanking him before heading up to them.

"What do you want?" Jim asked, Edward frowned at him, that was extremely rude.

"What's green then red?" The man asked, his blue eyes looking directly at Edward.

Edward was stumped, completely speechless, the man was asking him a riddle. He was so shocked that he said, "I don't know,"

The man grinned snickering out, "Frogs in a blender." 

It was glorious crude humor and whilst Gordon frowned, Edward found himself beginning to laugh with the man. Soon they were leaning into each other, laughing loudly, trying to catch their breath before bursting into renewed laughter.

"Oh, look, Ed's made a friend." Harvey said, chuckling at the sight.

"Oh, sorry, crude humor that shouldn't be funny just gets to me sometimes." The man said, he wiped his eyes and straitened the sleeves of his long sleeve dress shirt, his umbrella handle rested in the crook of his elbow. "I am Oswald Cobblepot, and on a more serious note, I would like to report what I believe is an attempt of murder I guess."

"You guess?" Jim sneered.

Edward glared at Jim for being rude, whilst Oswald gave him an innocently confused look. "Why, yes, detective. I don't know the correct term you would use-or if murder attempt is the correct term to begin with--Anyway, My father has a heart problem that he has to take medicine for. His current wife however is giving him peppermints instead and he has no idea."

Harvey pulled out a piece of paper and began jotting down the information that Oswald told them. "Okay, what is your father's name, address, his wife's name, what kind of medicine is he on, and how do you know she's not giving him his medicine." Harvey asked.

"My father's name is Elijah Van Dahl, he lives in Van Dahl Manor in Upstate, His wife's name is Grace, I also believe her children Sasha and Charles are in on it as well. If you call the local pharmacies you'll find that his prescription has not been refilled, his personal doctor will tell you that his health has been on a steady decline. I'm not sure about which medication, because he is on several."

Jim seemed to take a deep breath, putting his assumptions behind him as they began to work on this new case. The detective's enjoyed the ones where the victims survived.


	4. Carry On My Wayward Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If he was going to be a bad guy, he'd at least attempt to be a good guy every now and again.

Elijah gripped the front of his shirt as he watched the GCPD lead Grace and her children away. Grace was glaring at Oswald, as the cop directed her to duck her head to get into the back of the car.

He turned away from the scene, oh how his heart ached at this betrayal, but upon seeing Oswald his heart throbbed with a different but better pain. "What will happen to them?" he asked. They would go to prison he was sure, but not for long, he would need to warn his son to be watchful in the future. Grace and her children would get their revenge when they were freed.

"Grace will be going to Blackgate, there isn't a doubt about that, Sasha and Charles might get a lighter sentence. Your a lucky man, Mister Van Dahl, couple more months without your med's and you would have probably been dead." Harvey told him.

"How did you know?" Jim asked Oswald. 

Oswald smiled sadly at his father. The man hadn't known he'd had a son, and he found out the day his wife was arrested for attempting to murder him. "Mother...Gertrude sometimes talks in her sleep, When I heard your name I began to wonder...Mother, told me you had died when I was young, I wanted to know if the name she called out in her sleep was him...when I looked you up I was surprised to find you alive."

"I was a coward for letting your mother leave, do you think...do you think, she might give this old man, a second chance?"

Oswald seemed delighted by the very idea, "Of course, she would...well," he furrowed his brow seeming to think on it just a bit more,"She'll probably grumble a bit, but I'm certain she still loves you."

"Come on, Gordon," Harvey told his partner. He had a lot of things to teach this rookie.


End file.
